


S1_Prelude_Ctrl+Esc

by MB234



Series: Your_Privacy_Has_Been_Delet3d.exe [1]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:45:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MB234/pseuds/MB234
Summary: Darlene Alderson is many things, but a shitty best friend is not one of them. So when your main girl needs your help, namely because of one jackass ex that got the bright idea to propose, you're all too happy to help. Given, that help may come in the form of cheap liquor and excellent bud, but who ever said getting turnt couldn't heal all wounds. And if you get to meet Darlene's hot older brother along the way, what harm could it do right?It's not like you have a major hidden crush on him, or anything...Elliot x Female Reader. Part one of a two or more part imagine, comment if you like!!





	1. Menace_To_S0ciety.exe

You’d never really given any serious thought to complete and utter anarchy, besides when prompted by that giant yearning itch that burned constantly in your chest to rebel against the man and quit your job as a freelance writer by day and take on your hacker by night gig full time, or the stray cursing of a high cell phone bill due to your frequent overuse of your messaging storage, but the more you studied the swarming hive of high powered shit heads buzzing around the Financial District sidewalk, with their glinting Rolex watches, $300 haircuts and _claw your way to the top_ attitudes, the more you wanted to key their perfectly washed Maserati’s until they were all but unrecognizable. At the exact moment that Darlene sank down onto the NYC park bench beside you, you were busy thinking that your home made onyx nail polish job would look perfect scuffed on some jackass’s shiny silver Porsche, and were happily fanaticizing about dropkicking any asshole that had the bright idea to confront you about it.

 

“Hey babe,” Your best friend husked, her voice raspy from the smoke curling around her lips, pouring steadily from the smoldering cigarette that lay perched between the pointer and thumb of her right hand. She looked tired, you thought as you surveyed her from the auburn hair that lay piled atop her head into a haphazard top knot, the dark, heavy bags that were sprawled beneath the bright blue pools of her eyes, to the fatigued slope of her shoulders curving beneath her most definitely stolen, but undoubtedly authentic, Metallica t shirt. The ripped blue jeans and faded black combat boots she wore looked thrown on, as if they were an afterthought; a strange concept for a chick that you knew held her personal aesthetic in high esteem. The large duffel bag she’d tossed on the ground at her arrival, the bag that looked suspiciously as though it  currently carried all her possessions in the world, didn’t  do  anything calming for the alarm bells that were being raised within your head.

 

“Hey,” You replied, holding out the nearly empty tub of salted pretzel bits, your personal guilty pleasure, that you’d been munching on for her to share with you. You were glad when your small gesture coaxed just the barest hint of a smile from her, and after a small giggle she dove in, popping not one, not two, but five pieces into her mouth. In the spirit of fair trade she offered you her cigarette, and you gladly accepted, discovering after a hearty drag that it was actually an impressively well rolled spliff, the cigarette expertly hollowed out and filled with smoldering bud. You quirked an eyebrow at her as you grinned, “Nice, where’d you get the tree?” It was so smooth that the usual harsh burn was reduced to a slight, pleasant tickle that caressed the muscles of your larynx and left a slight earthy taste on your lips, “It’s really fucking good.”

 

“My brother,” She replied, the mention of the elusive sibling piquing your interest immediately, though you tried hard to cover it as she tossed one of the pretzel crumbs to the numerous pigeons meandering hopefully just a few feet away, lured by the promise of just one nibble of the tasty snack, “I think he’s sleeping with his drug dealer, historically not the best decision, but if it gets premo shit like this then by all means, go at it.”

 

“Please, it’s not like you haven’t done that before. Remember that Russian dude when we were living together in Brooklyn? The hot one with the bull tattoo on his-” You finished your statement by making a rather lewd gesture with both hands that was supposed to simulate the clenching of his admittedly rock hard ass cheeks. Darlene got the picture and turned to you with a knowing smile, one you felt curling your own lips before you both burst into laughter.

 

“What can I say, weed and weird tattoos make me wet,” Darlene said between giggles, looping her arm around yours, sighing wistfully as she gazed up at the sky, lost in memory, “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten such a good deal on hash.”

 

“No shit! When you shake your ass with porn star moves like that, things like weed prices tend to get a hell of a lot more negotiable. Plus, he was really cute for a guy with an eyebrow piercing.”

 

“And nice too,” Darlene supplied, still giggling lightly, “He gave me a warm towel to clean up with after he came on my tits.”

 

“What a gentleman,” You said rolling your eyes in half heartened sarcasm, handing the joint back to Darlene and swapping her for your Wetzel’s. You lapsed into comfortable, memory filled silence, soothed by the simple presence of the person you trusted most in this world and the gentle cooing of a few satisfied fowls.

 

“Cisco proposed.” Darlene confided quietly after a few moments, breaking you suddenly from your thoughts that were swirling inevitably around the new information you’d gleaned about Darlene’s brother.  The thrumming bite, the jagged tone of her voice told you immediately that she wasn’t particularly happy about this usually elating fact.

 

“No fucking way,” You replied, twisting to look at her, noting the downturn of her mouth and hardness around her eyes with a whole new context. Your gaze snapped to the burgeoning duffel that lay at her feet and sudden clarity dawned on your mind. She’d moved out, left him, and she was _pissed_.

 

“Way,” She replied with a heavy sigh, leaning her head back against the bench. The blue of the mid-day sky reflected infinitely in her sapphire orbs, reminding you that Darlene herself was much like the heavens above; luring, beautiful and utterly unattainable. Her presence here with you captured the consequences of misjudging that fact. “I thought he knew me better than that.”

 

“When?” You asked, declining her outstretched hand that generously offered you the spliff, reasoning that right now she needed it more than you.

 

“Last night,” She replied, shifting agitatedly, as if the memory of the incident was replaying in her head, and it made her stomach turn, “He got down on one fucking knee, like we were a picture perfect couple starring in some cheap chick flick; as if we hadn’t just finished hacking some middle aged bitch named Jenny who drives a Subaru for her HBO Go account. How lame is that.”

 

“Incredibly fucking lame,” You replied, trying, and failing, to imagine Cisco doing anything but annoying the shit out of you.

 

“We had a system, you know,” She said, puffing out large clouds of smoke into the breezy late summer air, “We worked well together. I thought we were on the same page. Things change, I guess.”

 

“So it’s over?” You asked gently, finally accepting the joint from her, needing the bud to cushion the shock of the news.

 

“For now,” Darlene said, her gaze meeting yours. At least she was being honest with herself; she and Cisco never could stay away from each other for long, “It just majorly sucks. Do you think I could stay with you for a bit? Just until I figure my shit out.”

 

“Hell yeah babe,” You replied immediately, flicking some ash off the spliff and bringing it back up to your lips for one last hit before it burned out. “We’ll have a girls night, or week. We’ll need some more of this bud though. And alcohol; preferably the cheap and dirty kind.” Her answering grin reminded you why she was your bestie; no one knew how to party quite like Darlene.

 

“Fuck yeah, we can pick it up later today. I’ll text him,” She said moving to gather up the hefty duffel at her feet, “Elliot’s good for it, I swear.”  


_Elliot…_

 

So that was Darlene’s brother’s name. She’d mentioned _him_ more times than you could count, but his _name;_ that was something you’d never really known, had been too shy to ask for, but had wondered intensely about. The thrumming, undeniable curiosity you felt about the older Alderson was showing no signs of abating any time soon, and each small tidbit of information that Darlene dropped had you working almost tirelessly to form a more complete picture of the enigma that was Darlene’s brother. That was _Elliot._

 

Though your heart was suddenly hammering in your chest, railing against your ribs in apparent joy, you played it cool, smiling and dropping the spent joint to the ground and rising to your feet.

 

“Wanna go pick up some forties?” You asked linking arms with her and beginning towards the subway station that would take you to your apartment, an admittedly shitty one bedroom in the gentrifying Lower East Side, “Since I’ve moved to the lovely queefdom of Lower Manhattan I’ve really embraced cheap malt liquor and $2 dumplings. Great for the raging drunchies we’ll have later.”

 

Darlene laughed, her lilting giggles absolutely infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider than before, a measure of haste in your step that you couldn’t completely attribute to the promise of a party with your best friend.

 

You were actually meeting Elliot, _today_. You were wildly nervous that seeing him in person would take this, whatever it was, from interested terrain firmly into crush territory, but you just couldn’t deny your excitement, your blatant interest, your burning curiosity.

 

What color were his eyes? Were they a deep, crisp blue, like his sisters, or were they a color wholly unique to him, never before seen in nature. Did he have his sisters same infectious laugh or was he a man of few words?

 

The idea that you’d have answers to these questions in just a few short hours had you laughing louder, walking faster, your heart beating harder. And as you and Darlene hopped onto the subway, suddenly the world didn’t seem as harsh. Suddenly you could ignore that faint whiff of pee, the hint of body odor that always permeated the space. You could ignore the creep leering in the corner and the lady giving you two killing looks. All that mattered was Darlene, already planning out your movie marathon, and the bright, alluring promise of Elliot and the color of his eyes, the timbre of his voice, the lilt of his smile.

 

And, oh _Lord,_ what a beautiful promise.


	2. I_Wanna_Be_Sedated.mov

_How the hell did I get here?_

 

You thought wryly as you studied faded red door before you, the crimson paint flecked across its surface peeling heavily, the once vibrant color just barely clinging onto the wood, cleaving valiantly, as if for dear life. The loud slam of a most likely identical aperture thudding closed echoed from a floor below, almost in tandem with your pounding pulse. A police siren screamed suddenly in the distance, a jarring reminder that although the hallway was now quiet, this was still a bad neighborhood.

 

 _Oh right_ , you reflected, stalling as you tried to muster up the courage to knock, how you’d gotten here was solely because your best friend was lazy and you really liked weed. Oh and the alluring pull of Darlene’s brother; there was that too.

 

_Darlene had long since passed out on your couch when the credits of Back to the Future 2 had started to roll, and though you were well on your way to a pleasant stupor, thanks to the half empty bottle of strawberry Mad Dog perched by your side, you were beginning to thoroughly crave a nice blunt like a frat bro craved a Marlboro Red mid-party. Nothing like a good, cheap liquor induced buzz to make you need a smoke._

_At that moment Darlene’s phone had buzzed loudly from where it lay on your knock off Urban Outfitters coffee table, the jarring sound instantly capturing your attention. You, being the shameless snoop that you were, had promptly reached over and read the incoming message. It was from a contact marked with one alias, the simple, unassuming letters reading, ‘Elliot’. It really did seem like fate, you’d thought, because if Darlene hadn’t name dropped her brother earlier that day you wouldn’t have paid that designation any mind. But she had, and as a result your interest was thoroughly peaked._

 

**_‘Yeah. 40 in cash for an eighth. Come pick it up from my place after 10 tonight.’_ **

_That was all the text had said, and though you didn’t know Darlene’s password, so you couldn’t read the previous bits of their conversation, you could easily deduce the details of this particular drug deal. Your pulse suddenly pounded in your ears, excitement flooding your veins as the prospect of meeting Elliot burst from a pleasant daydream possibility to a very real scenario that could occur within the next half hour._

_“Darl,” You hissed as you elbowed her side, far too excited to even attempt to sound casual, “Wake the fuck up babe, we’ve got weed!”_

_She grumbled unintelligibly as she tried vainly to roll away from your eager prodding’s, not even opening her eyes as she began feeble swats at your intruding pokes. You managed to make out the words ‘Fuck off’ somewhere amidst her ramblings, but even that couldn’t hinder your fervent determination._

_“Get your lazy ass up, mama wants some Mary Jane!” You whooped, leaving her to rouse grumpily from her cat nap as you hastily slipped your onyx platform combat boots on over your black thigh high socks. You rose, straightening your strappy wine colored slip dress and searching for your trusty beat up hobo bag, immensely grateful that you, as per usual, already looked appropriately captivating, so no additional primping that might  raise unwelcome questions from Darlene would be required._

_“Why don’t you just go get it, Elliot doesn’t live too far from you. I have cash in my bag you can use.” Darlene’s sleep laden voice croaked from where she still lay sprawled on your couch, not having budged an inch despite your eager proddings._

_“You’re not gonna come with me?” You’d asked, pausing from where you’d been meticulously re-arranging the two twin buns you’d haphazardly twirled your hair into atop your head to survey her. She was nearly asleep again, settled comfortably under one of the numerous fuzzy blankets that always lay strewn on your couch._

_“You got this babe,” She said after a jaw-splitting yawn, “Go be the fabulous drug hustler I know and love.”_

 

And that was how, after a surprisingly short walk through the dangerous nighttime Lower East Side neighborhoods that had even you,  seasoned New York resident that you were, clutching your ratty satchel a little closer, you’d finally come to the address that Darlene had mumbled to you; an unassuming building perched next to a lit up dumpling shop. You’d been surprised how diffident the building seemed. It was a bit dingy, for sure, you’d thought as you climbed the worn, scuffed stairs, but then again so was your place. Beggars, it seemed, couldn’t really be choosers. Not in New York.

 

 _Alright, buck the fuck up_ , you told yourself as you came to a stop in what you hoped was the right door, squaring your shoulders firmly to anchor your senses solidly in the present, _you can do this damnit!_

He was one dude, how devastatingly, provocatively alluring could he be?

 

Sighing, you shook yourself hard and knocked, three even raps on the door. As you waited you absentmindedly toyed with a stray lock of hair that insisted on falling continually in your eyes, focusing hard on anything but your pounding pulse. When finally, blissfully, that red door swung open, you realized that the answer to your subconscious question, to your satirical pondering, was _incredibly fucking alluring_.

 

And you weren’t entirely sure you could look away from him even if you’d wanted to.

__

 

_How the hell did you get here?_

 

Elliot thought, slightly anxious and very surprised by the small, distinctly feminine visitor that was currently occupying his doorway and a little too high to think about much else besides the lulling glint in your luminous eyes and the seductive curve of your red, red lips. He’d been waiting for Darlene, and as such had anticipated, even expected, something out of the ordinary to occur but still he was startled and pathetically unprepared to see a pretty, woefully unfamiliar female face gazing up at him.

 

“Hey,” You said, the pleasant husk that colored your lilting, sensual voice somehow giving him the impression that you’d just finished screaming your way through a particularly intense orgasm that he’d managed to give you. You smiled brightly as you reached into the battered bag that hung by your side and fished out a wad of cash, which you promptly offered up to him in an open palm; a gift of alms that was supposed to ease his stabbing discomfort at being caught unprepared in a social situation, “I believe we have a drug deal to complete.”

 

He didn’t say anything, busy as he was studying the way the dim hall lights splayed over the exposed skin of your collar bones and made shadows play in the hollows of your throat. As his prolonged silence wore on you raised a slim, elegant eyebrow and smiled knowingly, the corners of your full, rosy lips quirking upwards, as if beckoning him to discover the secrets that made them curve so enticingly.

 

“I’m not a connoisseur of pharmaceutical sales myself, but from past experience I do know that they’re not usually conducted out in hallways, even ones as pleasant as yours.” You said, resting the cash bearing forearm that you had outstretched on his doorway and leaning forward, your voice lowering, becoming more husky, as if you were about to whisper to him your most favorite way to be kissed, and he found himself leaning forwards in vibrant response, “The crack squad of the NYPD drug enforcement division tends to frown quite decidedly on such reckless behavior.”

 

Elliot would’ve smiled if he’d known you better,  if he’d felt more comfortable, and to make up for the fact that he wasn’t he moved aside to make way for you to step into his apartment, unable to resist the urge to breathe in deep as you passed by him. As he’d thought, you smelled like vanilla and mint, and just a hint of alcohol; sweet and saccharine with just the most subtle bite. Perfect.

 

As you entered his apartment he openly studied you, his gazing fixing raptly on the way the razor thin straps of your tiny dress hung on your shoulders, as if the slightest nudge of his shaking fingers could send them tumbling down your arms, followed quickly, hopefully, by the slip of the velvety fabric from your body altogether. Your thick, flowing hair was piled into these two ridiculous, playful buns that lay coiled atop your head, loose pieces falling carelessly around your face and down the back of your neck, and somehow it just totally _worked_ ; adding more credence to your undeniably magnetic appeal.

 

You had a few visible tattoos that he could easily see, and quite a few, he fantasized, that he couldn’t. A heavily ornate lotus flower graced the slim curve of the back of your neck, smooth minimalistic lines were arranged in the shape of what looked to be a cat and sat on the inside of a slender wrist, and some unintelligible script lay tucked on the inside of a curved forearm. Between those and your ears that were full of piercings, Elliot was suddenly intensely curious as to what other secrets he might find strewn across the landscape of your body. He longed to trace those racy additives with his fingers, and quite undeniably his tongue.

 

He was thoroughly mesmerized by the shape of your slim thighs that rippled as you strutted through his place, the exposed skin between the edge of your stockings and the hem of your slim dress beckoning like a sirens song that he heard echo all the way through his drug addled mind.

 

In his enraptured survey of you he’d completely forgotten about the rails of morphine that lay ready for consumption, displayed out in the open, on his coffee table. Before he could properly weigh and portray the acceptable amount of shame that he should be showing at being caught white-powder handed, you just scoffed and clicked your tongue, dipping one of many heavily ring bedecked fingers down, scooping a darkly painted finger nail into the nearest pile and popping the digit into your mouth, sighing as the small heap of opiates hit your tongue.

 

“Funny,” You said, your molten, hypnotizing eyes glinting in the low light of his apartment as they met his, “I wouldn’t have taken you for the doping sort. Not at first glance anyway. Cocaine is the usual drug of choice over…” You trailed off as you dropped your bag onto his couch, peering at him momentarily over a slim, curving shoulder before you bent down closer to study his Beta, Qwerty, and waited for him to supply the exact drug you’d just spontaneously sampled.

 

_Should I tell her? It’s dangerous to go announcing one’s vice’s to a complete stranger. Well, she isn’t a complete stranger, is she? She’s obviously close with Darlene; otherwise she wouldn’t even have known this meet was supposed to go down. That makes me feel better. And somehow, having mile long legs and impossibly red lips does help inspire confidence…_

 

“Morphine.” He said finally, after weighing the pro’s and con’s of divulging one of his most guilty pleasures, immediately realizing he’d just confided in you and he didn’t even know your name.

 

When he asked you flashed him that siren’s smile, the one that made his insides feel like they were on fire, and supplied him with your first name. He tested the syllables in his head, noting the way they made his tongue curve, and an almost smile tugged at his lips in an uncontrollable, automatic response.

 

“Nice to finally meet you Elliot Alderson,” You said, turning your head from his fish to meet his eyes, resting a slim, onyx nail polish tinged hand on his couch for stability and tilting your head as you surveyed him, a few loose strands of hair falling prettily in your eyes as you did so, “I’ve heard so precious little about you from our mutual bane.”

 

Elliot watched you go back to watching Qwerty, feeling an absolutely ridiculous pang of jealousy for the aquatic creature that had captured your attention so raptly, before he internally shook himself and moved over to the couch. After a moment of pondering, he decided to sit neither close nor far from you, putting the decidedly crushing responsibility of defining the exact nature of your new relationship onto your slim shoulders.

 

The silence was yawning on, and Elliot’s temporary high from the small bump he’d started just before you had knocked was wearing off, exposing the fragile tendons of this social interaction like a wound would a raw nerve. Each second plucked painfully, searing through Elliot’s mind.

_Say something. Say something. Say something._

“How do your stockings stay up?”

  
_Really?_ That was the best he could come up with? Fuck, what a bad question. The sharp, weirded-out look he was expecting to be hurled his way never came; instead you glanced up, an elated expression on your face, as if you were delighted that he’d noticed you had legs at all, and grinned.

 

“My thighs are deliciously supple. Perfect for thigh high holding.” You replied with a teasing wink in his direction that had his stomach fluttering absurdly. _Wait_ , was that flirting? Were you actually _flirting_ with him? He didn’t have time to dissect those glinting ponderings because suddenly you were reaching into your voluminous bag and pulling out a cd with a cover he didn’t recognize. “Mind if I put this on? I love that you still have a cd player.”

 

He muttered a small word of affirmation and gestured for you to go for it, leaning slightly forwards on his couch as he measured out and bagged the eighth of weed you were here to buy. As he did so he realized that he didn’t quite want you to leave, but he didn’t want to make you feel trapped, like you had to be here, either.

 

Trapped was the very last thing you looked, he decided as he glanced up and was promptly, and quite solidly, distracted from his task by the sight of you bent over his bookcase, those long, _supple_ legs seeming endless and the round curves of your hips and ass on perfect display for his, and his alone, viewing pleasure.

  
When you configured the cd to your liking and stood, whirling around, a stunning, heart stopping grin curving your lips, your arms winding above your head as the bass line swirled, cutting through the suddenly stifling room, Elliot silently thanked Darlene for her seemingly impeccable taste in friends.

 

“Now,” You purred, your gaze locked to his, like molten, smoldering hooks keeping him in place, “How about we smoke some pot?”

 

_Oh yeah, absolutely fucking impeccable….._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I decided to expand this fic to be about 5 (or 6) chapters, but more will definitely becoming, so please stay tuned for that. Please let me know any thoughts, comments, concerns that you may have, and of course, thank you for reading!
> 
> Mood Board: http://imagines-oneshots-blog.tumblr.com/post/152582305869/s1preludectrl-esc-chapter-2-how-the-hell-did

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The second story in my very first series, all about Mr. Robot! The series is linked at the bottom of the page, and in it you can find my other Mr. Robot fic, S1_Requiem_Alt+E, also an Elliot x reader fic! I really hope you guys enjoyed, there is much more to come! I always love hearing your feedback, if you had any thoughts comments or questions while reading please don't hesitate to send them my way! If this is the first fic of mine that you're reading I usually post mood boards to go along with my chapters, just to give you lovely readers more of an aesthetic to have in mind while reading. I love making them, and I've gotten positive feedback before, so check it out if ya want. Again, thank you for reading and stay tuned!
> 
>  
> 
> Mood Board for this chapter: http://imagines-oneshots-blog.tumblr.com/post/151710469324


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